Mary's Diary
by GarnetEwe
Summary: In her final days of living, Mary begins writing a diary to express how she feels in the hopes that one day she will be remembered after she has gone. A short glimpse into the life of a dying woman.
1. Beginning

_March 4th_

I have decided to keep a diary of the events as today I am feeling far worse than usual. I awoke this morning with a feeling of lethargy, my legs felt heavy and my neck was sore. I fear I have taken a turn for the worse.

_March 5th_

I am sat in my hospital bed, surrounded by pure white walls without a single speck of dust to be found. I am wearing hospital pyjamas and my hair is tied into a neat ponytail after having a cleansing shower. At first I was irritated that James wanted to rid himself of me but now I feel grateful. The hospital staff are very polite and helpful and have checked on me numerous times. James told me he would visit everyday and I do not doubt him, even now, as I know he will keep his word.

James came earlier, though I wish he hadn't. He had managed to shave himself clean and change his clothing. He looked tired but he had gone out of his way to come and visit me. Things started off fairly well, I had a more positive attitude and was eagerly chatting with him about the staff and how thankful I was that he had made such a decision. In turn he chatted to me about how good it was that I was feeling better and that he was sure I could receive the treatment I needed. Even through the intense pain, simply talking to James this way diverted my attention to a happier place. During his stay a nurse came in to tell him it was time for my medication and that visiting times were over, as he stood to leave I noticed he was eyeing the nurse from her pretty face to her body and when he attempted to kiss me goodbye I shook him off. The nurse handed me my pills pills and quickly left, seemingly unaware of the drama that had taken place.

"What's worng?" James asked, a sign of irritation in his tone.

"What do you think?" Came my scornful reply. "If you want to ogle women, ogle them in your own time."

"Shall I go?"

When I didn't reply he turned and left, slamming the door. I didn't cry, not then and not now. Instead I reached into the drawer of my bedside table and pulled out a small compact mirror, flipping the lid and examining my facial features closely. My looks had all but been abolished. My skin was swollen and lumpy, flakes of it were hanging where the skin was beginning to die, if I so much as scratched my face the skin would break and bleed. My blemishes and spots have begun to fill with pus, so tender to the touch that they would leak or even pop if I ran my fingers over them. I couldn't bare to stare at that strange woman any longer so I shut the mirror and threw it back into the drawer, pushing it way back into the dark corner of my mind where I needn't think about it.

_March 6th_

Though the years have been tough on me I have met a young girl who has kept me strong, she says her name is Laura. She's staying at the hospital too, though she has never told me why. Early one morning the nurse came in to check on me. When I told her my face was itching she applied some ointment which, over time, reduced the swelling leaving my features less repulsive. It was around this time that the girl came skipping by, humming a sweet melody. The nurse who was tending to me paused for a second and called her in, asking if she'd taken her medication. We struck up a conversation, or should I say, Laura struck up a conversation and I listened. She talks quite a lot and is very inquisitive. She asked me all kinds of questions and I answered as best I could.

"What's your name?"

I smiled and replied, "Mary."

"Why are you here?"

"I'm sick, can't you tell by my face."

She leaned in close to me and observed my expression, I thought she would say something unintentionally cruel, as children do, I was surprised however, when she began laughing.

"What's wrong with it?" Speechless, I simply stared at her not knowing what to say or think but before I could elaborate she continued. "I think you're nice, most people don't talk to me very much because I annoy them. I'm always being sent away and the nurses shout at me."

"That doesn't seem fair, I'm glad you came to talk to me."

"I like you Mary, I'm going to come and visit you every day." She said before taking a seat beside my bed.

We seem to get along quite well, she's a very sweet young girl but it seems people don't have time for her so she ends up bored and irritated. We were talking for hours, it reminded me of how James and I used to talk, before things got so bad. If I ever get better, I'm going to buy her a soft toy. She tells me she's quite fond of teddy bears and has taken a liking to one in particular, always carrying it with her wherever she goes despite it belonging in the children's play area. I don't know much else about her, she prefers to talk about myself rather than her personal life, she avoids many questions about her family and home life. I wonder why?

_Midnight-_I can't sleep. It's so quiet out on the wards yet the silence terrifies me. Perhaps it's because I'm lonely. Laura was made to got back to her own ward earlier and James didn't visit today like he promised. It's as though my whole life is crumbling beneath me, as though my entire world is being engulfed by a black hole. Not a day goes by when I don't wonder, _Why me? _What did I do to deserve such a fate? I must stop writing, my tears are landing on the paper and blurring my words.


	2. Decline

_March 7th_

He never came today either.

Laura did. I woke up to find her leaning on the bars of my bed, looking at me.

"I've been waiting for half an hour, you should wake up faster." She said with a pout. For some reason this made me laugh, so much so that I couldn't stop for sometime. I was shocked that I could still laugh as I hadn't done so in such a long time. She asked me about Silent Hill, as I had told her James and I had visited it in the past. I told her of the amazing beauty to be found there. Rosewater Park where I used to love sitting and Lakeside Amusement Park which seemed to arouse her interest quite a bit.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Laura said, "James doesn't sound like a very good husband."

"Oh no, he's a wonderful husband."

"Then why isn't he here visiting you?"

It became clear that Laura's first impression of James was not a very positive one. I felt I could do no more to change her mind unless she were to meet him but as I was too sick to climb out of bed there was no way of phoning him and I was reluctant to ask the nurses. Those women act like they care, put on a show to appear nice, but really they're looking at you all the time. They pass my door and glance in through the window, I hear them whispering. I hate them.

_March 10th_

Three days have passed without so much as a glimmer of James. Laura continues to insist that he does not really care and has left me to suffer here. I am beginning to question myself, and perhaps maybe Laura is right. Yesterday I found out some interesting information about her. When the nurse came with my pills, Laura was hastily sent away and the nurse confided in me about how the poor child was an orphan. Unknown whether her parents were actually dead she had no place to call home and had been staying in an orphanage for a while until falling sick and coming here. The nurse was rather snide with her comments, stating that a child like Laura was too overbearing for aspiring parents these days, too nosy and boisterous and would never be adopted. I thought it rather unfitting for her to speak of a patient this way, especially a child and I breathed a sigh of relief when she left. I have been developing a close relationship with Laura and to hear people speak of her this way angers me, the way it would anger a mother overhearing her child being bad mouthed.

_Midnight-_Another sleepless night. Not because I am sad but because I feel terrible. Breathing has become a tedious task and my face is throbbing and flushed. My fingers shake and struggle to grasp the pen, I am crying uncontrollably and I do not know why. The medication is not working, the decline has already started.

_March 11th_

I have been sedated most of the day so I have no recollection of the day's events. The doctor told me he had no choice but to put me to sleep as I was shaking and suffered a fit during the night, thankfully one of the night shift nurses caught sight of this and alerted him. During my spell of unconsciousness the doctor took some blood samples to test. I have not heard back yet but I do not anticipate them. I know I am growing worse as the days progress but I do not feel sorrowful, nor angry. Instead I am preparing for that day. I shall write a letter to James, telling him how I feel, apologizing for everything I've said, done, to make him feel unwanted, unloved and one to Laura, that lovely child who has been so kind to me during my stay, regardless of how ugly I look and how often I cried.

James just left. After days of abscence he finally returned, more haggard than I have ever seen him. His breath was so rancid I could hardly face to look in his direction. He was wearing that green jacket again, the one he always wears, and although he looked unappealing with his stench of alcohol and stubble seeing that jacket caused my heart beat a little faster. I thought of asking him where he'd been but decided against it, he had shown up and that was enough for me. Unfortunately due to my condition I ended up dozing off only to awake to an empty room. The nurse told me he had left shortly afterwards but that she had told him the reason I had fallen asleep.

_March 12th_

Today has not gone well.

I began by taking my notepad and proceeding to write my letter to James. I do not know what to say to him, there is so much I want to say but so little time and in such an environment I do not feel comfortable. Instead I began my letter to Laura. I know at this stage that I have very little chance of surviving and if I am to die soon I want Laura to know how much she means to me so that I too, unlike her parents, am not abandoning her. I have always wanted children but have never discussed the matter with James, I was hoping to adopt Laura if I were ever cured. I imagined the three of us, James, Laura and I living happily together like a family. Now that my dream shall never be realized, I feel that it is time I began writing my goodbyes.

Laura came in shortly after I had started and I had to quickly hide the documents under my duvet away from her eyes as I knew if she discovered them she would not stop asking qustions. It was also at this time that James came in, slightly less tattered than yesterday. Laura was looking up at him expectantly, almost as if waiting for him to notice her. Her huge doe eyes were crying out for attention, like she wanted to believe he was a good man, like all children try to see the good in people. What happened next left me a little dumbstruck as James simply crossed over to my bed, completely ignoring Laura like she was nothing more than a prop, a part of the decor and began talking to me. I was going to yell at him over his rude attitude but when I turned to apologize Laura had already left. With barely the energy to breathe I settled for lying back and gazing at James, who attempted a smile. It was only a thin one but it was a smile. We didn't talk much, just small talk and as infuriating as it was, I knew it was an improvement on the previous silences.

After leaving Laura shuffled back in. I assumed by her stance that she had been waiting outside the whole time and I felt a little guily that I hadn't invited her back in to introduce her to James. She looked a little grumpy and I can't say I blame her. As the world outside the room continued flowing, the space between Laura and I ceased to move, stuck in time as I watched her glare at me with a sombre expression. I had nothing to say, I couldn't cheer her up and I knew her opinion of James was set in stone. It seems my dream of a family was more deluded than I had hoped.


	3. Angst

_March 14th_

I was unable to write yesterday due to my ailing health. I was so tired, I didn't even feel like opening my eyes. Some of my blemishes had leaked onto the bed covers and my jaw had become swollen making breathing extremely difficult. When the nurse came to visit I felt so vulnerable, like I had regressed to a infantile state and I needed to be taken care of. The nurse had to give me a bath to clear out all the sores and wash away all the dirt and fibre from the mattress. She bandaged my face up a little to prevent my spots from becoming infected and changed my bed dressing. In some ways I am thankful to her. She has shown more affection to me than even my husband but at the same time I loathe her for being so pretty and carefree. She is doing her job and only because she has to and if she were asked to change patients I am sure she would gladly oblige. Nobody wants to look at such an abomination as me.

_Noon-_James came earlier. I was feeling low and depressed and did not wish to see him, even now when I am so close to the end. He had brought me flowers to cheer me up and he had washed and shaved. He no longer smelt of alcohol but of soap. I should have been pleased, I should have rejoiced but instead I drove him away with my spite. I am such a horrible woman.

"What do you want James?" I snarled, like a wolf scaring away a predator.

"I, uh I brought you some flowers." He replied, holding them tightly in his grasp.

"Flowers? I don't want any damn flowers! Just go home already."

"Mary, what are you saying?" He asked me, a pleading look in his eyes.

I shouted at him, my eyes filled up with tears and I pushed him further and further away until finally I snapped.

"Are you still here? I told you to go! Are you deaf? Don't come back! "

And with that he turned and left, he didn't even leave the flowers, didn't even hurl them on the floor, he just turned and left, closing the door gently as opposed to slamming it and I knew I had hurt him more than I thought possible. I knew I had drove him so far away it would be hard to reel him back and I knew that I had damaged the one man I loved more than anything. Then I died a little inside.

I tried calling to him, begging him to come back. I was so alone and so afraid. I don't want to die, I'm scared, terrified. I want to spend more happy times with James, more happy days with Laura. I wish I could spend one last day in Silent Hill, together with James, happy and carefree like I once was.

_March 15th_

I never meant to say those things to James. I was hateful at the world that day and if I could take those words back I would. It's no surprise that James never came today though I wish he had. I have only myself to blame, the disease is a poor excuse for my outbursts and should never be used to justify such things.

I haven't seen Laura since this morning when she brought me her teddy bear to cheer me up. She couldn't stay long as my nurse was prowling around and kept shooing her. I'm going to miss her very much. Before she left I gave her a hug, a very long, meaningful hug and her skinny arms held me tightly like I was her biological mother. I did this for two reasons. The first being that I love her and the second being that I may never see her again. The doctor came today to tell me I can go home. I know I'm not getting better, in fact I'm getting worse, he's being very kind allowing me to leave in my condition. He knows he can do nothing for me and so is letting me return home to see James. I may never get another chance.

I have managed to finish writing my letters. James' is particularly long so that when he reads it, after I have gone, he will know that I never hated him and I hope that he can forgive me for everything. I wish things could have been different between us, I wish we could have lived out our fairytale ending but that's life. I regret nothing, other than not having enough time for those I care about. Each day I spent with James was wonderful and I cry when I think of how I yelled at him, sent him away. Perhaps now, with my final chance, I can redeem myself and put his mind at ease.

As for Laura, her letter details my feelings for her, my love. I have also asked her not to be too much of a pain for the nurses whom she has done nothing but cause problems for, in her playful childlike manner. I mentioned James too, his kindness and affection in the hopes that one day, if she feels like it, she can seek him out for answers and maybe, grow close to him like she did me. Her 8th birthday is coming up and I fear I shall be far gone by then. I will not tell her directly that I have passed away for I fear it will damage her tremendously. Instead I shall tell her I have gone away to a beautiful land and that I am at peace. I shall leave the note with nurse Rachel and tell her not to hand it to Laura until I have left.

_March 16th_

I'm back home, in my lonely bed. It's raining today. I can hear the faint pitter patter of rain against the window pane. It's gotten heavier recently, almost as if it's tryng to break into the room. I wouldn't mind being wet, or at least it wouldn't make a difference, these days I'm always drenched with my own tears.

I can just barely turn my neck to glance out the window into the bleak, pale sky. The sun is completely hidden by the oncoming fog and it pains me to see such a dismal scene. I'd shut the curtains but I'm too weak to climb out of bed and I refuse to ask James to do it. It seems that all I ever do is belittle him these days. I can't expect him to to do things for me after everything I've said to him. I'm so cruel lately, I yell at him over the slightest little things and he just stands there with a look of pain in his eyes, as if searching for an answer to some unasked question. And I know exactly what that question is, "Who are you?"

Whenever I glance into the mirror, I feel disgusted at what a monster I've become, both inside and out. My skin has began to wrinkle, a sign of premature ageing, It's texture is rough and I've started to develop numerous tiny blemishes. A few weeks back, whilst I was in a light sleep, I woke to the sound of a thunk. When I opened my eyes I saw James stood at the vanity chest. In his hand he held a photo he had taken from the drawer, a photo of me, back when we visited the town of Silent Hill. That was such a pleasant memory, staying in that beautiful hotel. There was polished wood everywhere, the bathrooms carried a fresh scent of soap, the staff were so polite and friendly. James and I travelled all over during our stay. We visited a wonderful park there, Rosewater I believe it was called, a magnificent place with benches where James and I sat all day, simply admiring the view. It seems like an eternity ago now and at that moment, when I caught James admiring the photo, it broke my heart. I stared at him for a while and he eventually spotted my gaze, quickly slipping the photo back into the drawer and sheepishly sitting on the chair beside my bed. We used to chat all the time, he would hold my hand and ask me how I was feeling, if he could get me anything. Sometimes we would just talk for hours about any subject that came to mind, though now, he no longer holds my hand. We just stare, avoiding each others gaze in silence until James leaves the room. Then I cry.


	4. Goodbye

_March 17th_

Today I feel slightly better. I managed to pull myself up into a seated position. It makes writing in this diary much easier than before. It's raining again today, only less frequent than yesterday. So far this is an improvement and the day would be complete if James were here to share my joy. Unfortunately he's been out since the early hours of the morning, I don't know where but I know why. Sometimes I can hear him faintly sobbing downstairs, I wish I could tune him out somehow but his painful mourning seems to take my focus and everything else becomes inaudible. I used to have a radio for times like this only during an argument with James, again due to my ailing health, I threw it at him and it shattered against the wall. I was chilly today, moreso than usual, so I have taken to pulling the duvet up to my torso to keep my legs warm. I wish I could move around more, even a little. The room is caked in dust, I can even see some speckles floating in the dim light. I would often clean to keep myself occupied, only now I can't even do that, being confined to this room, it's like a cell with no door, just endless bars which I can't escape. The filth is irritating me. I hate feeling so unclean, I can't even take a shower so my hair is greasy and my skin is producing layer upon layer of oil. James used to clean for me, used to wash me, carry me to the bathroom. He still does the latter, even he would never leave me to rot in my own excrement, thank God.

James returned home a short while ago. Though I don't know the exact time, it is late in the evening as the sun has started to set. James came upstairs a short while after his return, stumbling up the stairs and collapsing into the room, holding onto the door for support. If it were any other circumstance it would have been comical, however his expression and stance expelled any light hearted feeling inside me. There was an intense odour of alcohol in the air and James' sullen expression told me he was drunk. I had just woken from a nap and he did not realize I was awake. In his drunken state he shuffled over to the vanity chest and removed the photo once more, eyeing it closely before replacing it. I did not know whether to cry or feel angry after he had left. I know it is hard to watch his wife fall into such a horrific condition, he's put on a brave face for so long and the stress is surely getting to him, though he fails to see how much he is hurting me with his actions.

I am afraid I must end my entry for today, the pain has started to surface again and I am tired from the day.

_March 18th_

James has been getting increasingly worse. He was out all day drinking again, he didn't even change his clothing from the previous day. The stench of alcohol is eminating throughout the house. A constant reminder of what this is doing to my husband. Although I am not directly responsible for my illness, I still carry the weight, the blame. I have had to resort to lying on my back again due to the pain. I reached for my pill case earlier, forgetting that there were none left, nor do I have any sleeping pills so I can't sedate myself. Scattered on various surfaces around the room are empty bottles of all shapes and sizes which once contained medication. Despite my intense suffering, despite the pills doing nothing, I still continued to take them. Perhaps I fooled myself into believing that they would do me good but to no avail. Some numbed the pain, others made me drowzy but none of them ever made me better. I still the remember the day I was checked into the hospital. James delivered the news to me. I could hear him mumbling to somebody downstairs, at first I thought the stress had gotten to him and he was talking to himself but then I heard the clicking sound the phone makes when you return it to it's position. Shortly after he came unpstairs and into the room. His chin was full of stubble and his eyes were sunken and red, I pitied him.

"What is it?" I asked when he entered.

"I just called the doctor. I feel it's time for you to check into the hospital."

I didn't know what to say. I knew he meant well, I also knew he wanted me out of the house, so my feelings were equally mixed. Last time I visited the doctor, a few months ago, he prescribed me painkillers and sedatives.

"I'll get your clothes and load the car up." He said as he was about to leave. Before going he stopped in his tracks, turned, walked towards me and kissed my forehead like he used to.

The sheer emotion running through my body at such a tender action was almost too much to bear and it took all of my strength to prevent myself from breaking down before him. My illness has prevented us from making love. It hurt to sleep in our bed with him because of my tender flesh and so I moved to the spare room in a single bed. James used to sleep in our room but over time he has resorted to sleeping on the couch. He can't bare being in the room next to me, that's how ugly Iv'e become.

_March 19th_

Today I feel the last remnants of my life ebbing away. I have my letter ready for him. I will not give it to him, not yet. He must only read it once I have passed away and so I have placed it in a drawer for him to find. My skin is so worn that moving my wrist to write this causes it to crack and bleed but it must be done. I never intended anybody to read this and I still don't but if I can place my words onto paper then it is evidence that I existed and hopefully I shall continue existing afterwards, in my loved ones' hearts and in memory. I do not wish to be remembered how I am now but how I was back then and that maybe James can rest knowing he no longer has to suffer the burden of such a bitter wife. My chest has been heavy and I have noticed it moving up and down more slowly than it ever has done. I know now that the end shall come, maybe now or tomorrow I am not sure, but soon. My wrists are leaking with tiny drops of blood and I cannot write correctly due to lying down. All of my strength has been drained and I can't even move my leg if it cramps. I am almost paralysed.

James is coming upstairs, I can hear his feet scraping on the stair. I shall tell him I love him this one final time, I won't shout or cry, I will simply love like I always have done. Thankfully today is rather bright. The sun is shining through my window and I can see the beautiful shimmer on the refelction of my pen. If I were to die right here, with the sun shining and with James beside me. I would be happy. This is my final diary entry, to everyone I love, goodbye


End file.
